


Stake-Out

by CaptainAwesomest



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Secret Avengers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAwesomest/pseuds/CaptainAwesomest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi and Clint are basically divorced in-name-only; for the most part, they do everything they used to do while married. One of those things included very frequent wedgies between the two, something that doesn't take much prompting for them to bring back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stake-Out

"Your apartment stinks."

"I have a dog; not my fault dogs smell bad."

"No, Sport, the dog is probably the _least terrible_ smelling thing here."

This snarky banter is produced by two people, standing by a window, one of whom is currently looking through a pair of binoculars at a building opposite, specifically one that looks rather shifty and criminally. The pair are both blonde, but one is a male, a fairly tall one with an impressive build and scruffy hair, while the other is a woman, a few inches shorter than the guy, with an athletic frame. Both are dressed rather odd for their surroundings though, with the guy wearing an all-black outfit with short sleeves and a purple arrow-like symbol on the chest while the woman wears a black body suit with a white stripe going down the belly to mid-thigh. Archery gear and metal batons sit on a table near them, alongside some drinks and half-eaten chinese food.

These two people are none other Clint Barton and Bobbi Morse, better known as Hawkeye (classic flavour) and Mockingbird, two members of the Avengers, decorated SHIELD assets, and (former) husband and wife. Technically speaking, they're divorced, but they still go to one-another for various husband/wife/couple things, from opening pickle jars to help with documents and building shelves to the occasional booty call when they need to, and they're both each other's next of kin and the one they still get crazy-freaked when the other is hurt on a mission and they still kick all kinds of ass together. Basically, they're essentially still married, but they're free to sleep with other people and they don't have a ring on it any more, even if they do both keep the rings.

It's been a while since they've actually spent this much time together though; Clint's been super-busy helping Roberto Da Costa's New Avengers team, while Bobbi's been dealing with a medical emergency of sorts, but Bobbi's been tracking this small group of criminals responsible for stealing some supervillain tech, and she's tracked them to their hideout in an old building; she just needs to get eyes on them with the tech, and fortunately, Clint lived practically next door to them, so his apartment was perfect for a stake-out. Not to mention, didn't hurt to have some back-up on the op, in case a fight happens, right?

"That hurts, right here." Clint snarks back, rolling his eyes, plopping down into a chair by the table, bored out of his mind as he watches her watch the apartment. "You're still tight with SHIELD, couldn't you use some spy drone thing to just check the place out?"

"I could, but right now SHIELD's rep is kind of messed up thanks to this whole Kobik/Pleasant Hill disaster, so no fun toys for me to play with in case they get traced back to them if this thing's a bust." Bobbi explains with a shrug, continuing to watch. "So, what's new with you? Need help fighting any more Russian mobsters?"

"N'ahh, those guys stepped off after we took out their trigger man. To be honest, beyond the occasional thing with whatever Avenger team wants me, I've not had much to do." Clint explains with a shrug. "Hell, not even had a team-up with Kate for a while."

"How are things with you and your little protégé? Hawkeye2 still a thing?" Bobbi adds, glancing back at him.

"We still train together and all, but she's been hanging out with her friends; feels like I have a daughter who doesn't want anything to do with me." Clint admits, mildly jokingly. "She still uses my apartment as a second home though, and brings her boyfriend over too, which is awkward."

"Oh, you haven't ever, you know, walked in on them...?"

"Oh thank god, no, but, have walked in on them with her underwear over her head." Clint replies with a laugh, causing Bobbi to turn around and raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, they've got this whole wedgie war thing going on, kinda like what we had. Remember that?"

"I remember, quite vividly." Bobbi retorts with a mix between a glare and grin. "You seemed obsessed with them for a little bit."

"What can I say? You looked good with your underwear up your butt." Clint retorts with a shrug. "Any idea how they started?"

"You don't remember?" Bobbi glances at him as he shakes his head. "Sparring, I was kicking your ass, then you cheated and gave me a jock-lock and left me there. Descended into a full blown war after that."

"Oh yeah. You _hated_ those things!"

"Of course I did; how am I supposed to kick your ass when you have my ankles trapped to my underwear? It was such an underhanded trick."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Clint muses with a shrug, leaning back in the chair, though she just rolls her eyes and grumble, but shrug; he did win when he did that.

"You know, speaking of wedgies, had a really weird thing happen while I was doing that thing with Kate and Nat and Daisy." Bobbi brings up, making him look up.

"Yeah? What, you girls play that game we used to play to settle bets?" Clint suggests, getting an eyeroll in response.

"Nah, nothing like that, but, she tell you about those wedgie-bots?" Bobbi asks, making him look confused.

"...huh?"

"Yeah, apparently...you remember Monica Rappaccini?"

"Dark hair, AIM chick, you broke her nose that one time when you thought he killed me?" Clint guesses, getting a nod.

"The very same. Well, she apparently built wedgie bots, which somehow got into Masque's hands, and we had to take care of them. You know, _after_ they nearly tore off our underwear."

"This is the world we live in now? Wedgie bots are a thing?" Clint questions, looking puzzled. "Man, 14-year-old-Clint would be so happy to hear that. Wish I could see it."

The two grow silent after that, not knowing how else to continue the conversation. Most of the Chinese food is gone, save for some little bits of left-overs that Clint proceeds to flick at any makeshift targets he can find, be it cans of beer, bits of furniture, the window itself. He even flick one to bounce off of the window and into Bobbi's cleavage, cauing her to turn around and glare at him.

"Really?" She asks, looking at him like he's a petulant child.

"What? I'm bored." Clint shrugs, leaning back, getting an eyeroll as she groans, reaching into her top and throwing the piece of food to the side.

"Boo-hoo, find something else to do." Bobbi retorts, returning her focus to the scene outside. She gets a few minutes of peace and silence, to which, she starts to feel bored too. Stake-outs _suuuuuuck_...

Eventually, she too slouches down in a chair with a sigh, yawning and stretching, before leaning forward to continue her look-out. That is, until she felt the familiar feeling of Clint curling his fingers around her waistband. Evidently, the stretching and leaning caused the top half of her uniform to rise up, with her underwear sticking out of her pants just enough to be grabbable. Combined with the conversation, she has to admit she's surprised it took him as long as it did.

"Clint..."

"Wedgie!" The archer pulls back, causing Bobbi to bite her lip, but otherwise not react as the baby-blue coloured cotton-spandex thong is pulled up out of her tight pants, getting to some height before Clint lets it snap back. She turns and silently glares at him, with a 'really?'-like expression on her face, while he just leans back and grins. Rolling her eyes for probably the eighth time today, she turns back and stuffs the underwear the best she can back into her pants.

"What? I told you I'm bored."

"We are working, remember?" She adds, before returning to the stake-out, even if it is boring.

That is until he does it again, this time with both hands, and he keeps pulling up for another thirty seconds.

"Clint...!" Bobbi growls, looking back at him as the thong snaps back, fists clenched as she death-glares him. Its now that she remembers why she only occasionally wears thongs. "I'm giving you a simple warning, quit it."

As she turns back, Clint wastes no time ignoring said warning, giving her another quick tug. Once more she silently tenses up, refusing to so much as squeak as he kept pulling. Evidently, he takes this as a challenge to get her to react, and so he keeps pulling, getting them up to her shoulders. Getting brave, he hooks them over them, letting them snap down, before flicking the material to make it spring one last time, before he leans back.

Taking a deep breath, she puts the binoculars down, then awkwardly pries the tight material off of her shoulders, letting them snap back to her waist, before she awkwardly shoves the stretched out material into her pants. Turning around slowly, she glares at him again, while he just smiles challengingly at him.

That is, until she jumps over the table between them and tackles him off of his chair.

The two let out a small yelp as they crash into the floor, quickly grappling one-another, trying to get the upper-hand, all the while rolling into things and knocking them over, and confusing the hell out of Clint's dog as it just looks on in confusion. Soon the two remember why they used to do this sort of thing as, with a laugh, she gets the upper hand, grabbing his pink waistband and pulling on his boxers, only for them to tear with great ease, evidently not standing up much to her.

"Really Clint? That easily?"

"Hey, I buy cheap and in bulk. So sue me if it means they ain't wedgie proof."

She rolls her eyes again, until he capitalizes on that, rolling them over and grabbing her sides, pulling up harder, this time able to make her yelp and laugh, as he manages to get his footing and pulls her off of the floor by the thin garment. Briefly he holds her entire weight by the thong, before the two fall back against the window, causing a loud bang as they hit against it, him holding her thong up to her ribs while she's pinned to the window. They take a second to catch their breath, looking at each other, with him holding her underwear still and her still holding what was his.

And, like almost all their wedgie fights, this is when they start making out. Unzipping his uniform top she turns them around so she's pinning him against the window, while he still holds her off the ground, locking lips and eyes closed.

Until they hear sounds coming from across the street, and realize that the situation they were looking out for is happening.

"Well, guess we'll pick this up later." Bobbi sighs with a smile as he lets her back onto the ground. Adjusting her glasses and stuffing her underwear back into place, she tosses him his archery equipment as the two head out, Bobbi only stopping when she realizes her bra's undone. "How...? I didn't even realize you did that."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm an expert at undoing your bra." Clint replies as he passes her, pecking her cheek and giving her backside a small flirty tap as he does so. "Come on, I'll race you."

With an eyeroll, she follows, twirling her batons as she gets ready to join him to the fray. About half an hour later their return, the badguys bagged and tagged, both of them trying not to smile as they enter, their clothes a little ripped but otherwise no sign of harm to them.

"So, bet now you probably have quite a bit of paperwork to do on all this, right?" Clint asks as he puts his bow and quiver down, looking back, only to see Bobbi slipping off the top half of her uniform, tossing it to the side.

"Actually, that we can do later. Think we have something else to pick up from." She replies as she looks over her shoulder at him, undoing her pants, and grinning as she walked into his bedroom. Clint blinks a few times, before quickly heading in to follow her, leaving behind his pants and shirt, right next to where she left his torn underwear.

Strangely enough, this is basically how most of their booty calls go.

**Author's Note:**

> Last of my DA stories I'm transferring over. Glad to have all of them posted here now.


End file.
